Mirrored Reality
by The AsianWeasley Twins908
Summary: Harry is betrayed and ends up trapped in another dimension. But it's not just him that's stuck in a world that's not his. There's another Harry thrown into the mix of dimension swapping! Will the Harrys ever find their way back home? Or will they just have to adjust to the new worlds they are thrown into?
1. The Attack on Diagon Alley

**Mirrored Reality**

**A/N**: Fred was singing some song about a mirror, (no idea whatsoever) and I had a strike of brilliance and decided to write about it. ;) Wish me luck!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of J.K. Rowling's characters in any way, shape, or form. Unfortunately.

**Chapter One – The Attack on Diagon Alley**

Harry was in the back room of Madame Malkin's getting fitted for new clothes. His girlfriend had recently discovered that he only had elephant-sized hand-me-down rags from Dudley. She practically dragged him from the Burrow into the floo and to Madame Malkin's to get him fitted for clothing suitable of "someone of his status." He didn't see why he really needed more clothing. Honestly, he thought his clothes were fine. He wasn't naked, and they weren't in _too_ bad of shape. Besides, he wore robes over the tops of his clothes anyways when he wasn't wearing his school uniform. She was different; something special that he had never seen before.

~~**Library** – **Mid Fourth Year**~~

She was in Slytherin, so he had been rather wary at first when she had approached him when he was studying alone in the library one day. She asked for his help on a DADA assignment from Professor Moody. She was a year older than Harry, but Professor Moody was doing similar things in all of his classes because of how behind most of the students were in defence class. She wasn't like any of the crazy fan girls that followed him around, or asked for his help just so they could stare at him and giggle while not listening to him at all. He helped her, she thanked him, and left without a glance behind at him. He was completely stunned.

No one had ever treated him like a normal person like that before, not even Ron and Hermione completely treated him normally. They always fussed over him and treated him like he was a child – almost – that needed to be guided. Slowly, over the next week, he started noticing her more. She often passed him on the way to her classes. It was like he was seeing her everywhere after that time in the library. He couldn't figure out how he had never noticed her before. Patricia Boggwater was a beautiful girl with long blonde hair with light blue-lavender eyes.

At mealtimes, Harry would sit on the side of the Griffyndor table that faced the Slytherin table in hopes of seeing her. His friends couldn't understand why he was so obsessed with her. It had been a month since their encounter in the library, but he couldn't get his mind off of her. Hermione came up behind him in an annoyed huff. She grabbed his arm and practically dragged him off. He almost fell off the bench he was sitting on when she had started to drag him away. She pulled him into the Entrance Hall and glared at him. He was slightly surprised. He didn't know what he had done to annoy her so much, so he waited for her to stop glaring at him and explain what was going on. Then she took a deep breath, "Harry, just ask her out already! It's getting pretty old to see you just sitting there staring at her."

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "What – I can't – why are you – Hermione! I can't do that!"

She just looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "And why can't you? You can face down basilisks, Voldemort, and Triwizard tasks, but you can't ask a girl to go out with you?"

She smirked at him when he slumped in defeat. "Go ask her before you forget how scary I am."

With one last look at Hermione, he went back into the Great Hall to ask out one beautiful Slytherin.

~~**Madame Malkin's – Present Day**~~

He was just beginning to get bored, when he heard multiple cracks of apparation. There was the sound of screaming and glass windows, most likely store front windows, being broken. Harry, still in a silk emerald green button up and black trousers, he raced to Patricia, wand in hand in a protective stance. Suddenly, a black shape appeared in front of the door. Too quick for him to react, a spell blasted him backwards into the direction he came from inside the store and away from Patricia. "Harry!" she shrieked after him.

"Patricia! Get behind something!" He shouted to her. He was on the other end of the shop, directly in front of the fitting mirror. She hesitated a moment, before she turned and ran to hide behind the shop's counter. She was hit with the Cruciatus before she could make it. She screamed in pain. Her attacker was Voldemort himself. Voldemort let out a high, cold laugh. "Good girl, Patricia. I almost thought you wouldn't carry through."

Patricia had betrayed him? Shopping today had been a ruse to get him here in Diagon Alley? Harry looked at her, she was still on the ground breathing heavy from the crucio. As if she could feel his eyes on her, she looked up at him. "I'm sorry Harry. He was going to kill my sister if I didn't get you to come here. I had no choice. You have some chance of living, she doesn't."

He nodded at her, it hurt that she'd betray him, but he knew her sister. Antlia was a really sweet first year Ravenclaw that looked a lot like Patricia. Patricia loved her sister more than her parents or any other family member and she always tried to look out for her. "My parents gave Antlia to the Dark Lord to make me cooperate. My parents told the Dark Lord about us, and they told me I had to bring you to Diagon Alley today, or they would kill her."

She screamed again as Voldemort cast the Cruciatus on her. With another cruel, high laugh he said, "As _fascinating_ as this all is, I find myself growing bored with this." He pointed his wand in Harry's direction and said, "_Capio intra speculum dimensio_"

By this time, Harry was already on his feet. He didn't recognize the spell, so he dodged out of the way, not chancing it that a Protego might not work. The spell hit the mirror behind Harry. Not sparing a thought that the spell didn't reflect off the mirror, he began to taunt one of the most powerful dark lords people had seen in a while. "Not quite up to par today, huh Tom? Shame, really. I was almost hoping for a challenging duel."

Voldemort just smirked at Harry as though he was missing out on a particularly obvious joke. "If I am 'not quite up to par' what would that say about you? Still missing the obvious, Harry."

Voldemort shot a blasting curse at Harry. Harry managed to get a Protego up in time to block the curse, but the force of the spell still knocked him backwards a mite. His back bumped into the mirror behind him, but to his surprise, it was like falling into water. He could feel the mirror there, but it wasn't solid anymore. Off balance, Harry fell through the mirror.

He hit the hardwood floor of Madame Malkin's shop. Scrambling to his feet, Harry looked around for Voldemort and couldn't help but wonder why Voldemort would do something so simple as to make a mirror not a solid anymore. Voldemort was no where to be seen. In fact, the entire store seemed wrong. Like the racks and displays were flipped somehow. Patricia wasn't anywhere to be found either. Hearing the cold laughter of Voldemort coming from behind him, he whirled around.

There it was. It was the mirror he had fallen through. Voldemort was on the other side of the glass along with Patricia. "Say goodbye Harry Potter. There is no counter-curse to this Dimension Trap, no reverse, no way back. Stuck in a similar world, but never here."

He looked as though he was going to say something else when he was hit by some spell from behind. It was Patricia. She looked directly at Harry and said, "I'm so sorry for everything, Harry. I love –"

Her last words were brutally cut off, when the Dark Lord Voldemort shot the killing curse at her. Her lifeless body fell to the ground. Eyes glazed, mouth still puckered in preparation of her last words. Words that will now never be spoken. Eyes that will never see her sister again. Harry distantly heard someone screaming "NO!" in the background until he realized it was him screaming. Brokenly, he fell to his knees, sobbing. He never even told her how much he liked her. He wasn't really sure what love was, but he thought that might have been what he felt for her. He would never get to tell her. She was gone.

**A/N** – _Capio intra speculum dimensio_ – essentially it means "captured within the looking glass dimension"


	2. Through the Looking Glass

Disclaimer: I'm still working on some polyjuice potion to become J.K. Rowling and steal her ownership rights. All I need now, are a magically compartmentalized trunk, boomslang skin, and some of her hair...

**Chapter Two – Through the Looking Glass**

The morning was cold and dank, and having sleeping quarters in the dungeons did nothing to improve Harry's mood. His nose was cold and he didn't feel like getting up. Casting the tempus charm, he found that it was only six in the morning. Figuring he woke up for a reason, he closed his eyes and opened up his senses.

Someone was in the living room. Reluctantly climbing out of covers, he grabbed his wand and toed himself over to his door. It was most likely his father getting up and preparing for his day, but he listened just in case for anything that might clue him in to who was moving around. Hogwarts may be an extremely safe place, but one could never be too sure.

Damn, Harry silently cursed to himself. He _knew_ he was spending too much time with Moody. The man was completely paranoid. Granted, he had plenty of wizards with a vendetta against him and had good reason to be paranoid, but still.

Listening closely to the pattern of the footfalls, he relaxed. The footfalls sounded like pacing, and if anything, his father seemed to love pacing first thing in the morning as he organized his mind for the day. Turning back around, he made a beeline for his bed. He was soo ready to climb back under the warmth of his covers. Climbing back under the still warm covers, Harry let himself sink back into unconsciousness.

**~Hours Later~**

Harry was feeling stiff from sleeping in the same position for so long and began stretching to ease his stiff body, but paused when something at the corner of his eye moved. The ceiling just outside of bathroom connected to his room looked like it had light reflecting off of water. He knew he should be wary of unknown factors that weren't easily discernible, but he couldn't stop himself. It was like he was drawn to the shimmering light that originated from the bathroom.

Pushing the door all the way open, he saw that it was the mirror on the wall that was emanating the strange light. The surface of the mirror itself had slight tremors and waves, like a silver pool of water. Harry tried to get his mind to focus, to think what diagnostic spell he could use to figure out what the mirror was, but he couldn't even look away from it.. Leaning close, he placed a palm on the rippling reflective surface and then he was falling. He wasn't even sure how, but he was falling into and through the mirror.

Landing on his feet with a jolt, Harry lost his balance and tripped backwards. He whacked his head on the still open door of the bathroom. Cursing loudly, he rubbed the back of his head. Glancing around, he noticed that the sink area and mirror were on the wrong wall of the bathroom. It was like everything had been reversed, or flipped somehow. Before he could continue his observations or train of thought, his bedroom door flew open.

He saw his father standing there with a scowl on his face. With a sheepish grin, he began apologizing, "Sorry about that, I sorta hit my head. I know you keep telling me not to but it kinda just slipped out..." He trailed off as he noticed his father wasn't just upset. He was _incensed_ and was stalking towards him. He was a little surprised that his father was in such a foul mood. Usually, he didn't get _this_ upset over a bit of cursing. His arm was grabbed roughly, "What are you doing here, Potter?" His father spat out at him.

Now Harry was confused. Potter? He had legally changed his name _years_ ago. Like, when he was six.

"Dad?" he queried. He was sneered at with such loathing, he wondered what on earth had happened. His father _never_ looked at him like that. "Stupid boy, I'm not your father. That arrogant man is dead, thank Merlin. I have no idea what you're doing here, but you're coming with me. Let's see what Dumbledore has to say about all this."

Hearing those words coming out of his father's mouth snapped him out of his confused stupor. He stomped on the look-alike's instep, and wrenched his left arm away, shooting a stupefy, body bind, and expelliarmous in quick succession with his right.

The man successfully deflected the first spell, but he wasn't quite quick enough to catch the second and third spells. Harry shot out his arm to catch the man's wand as it flew through the air. The look-alike was on the ground with a furious look on his face. "Potter!" the man exploded. "What in the blazes do you think you're doing?! Attacking a professor!"

But Harry wasn't listening. He had already tuned the man out, and began pacing. Harry began to attempt to assess what he knew about his situation and surmise what was going on. One, he was not in his room anymore, because this room was in obvious disuse and completely turned around from his. Two, the look-alike on the floor either killed or incapacitated his father and is using polyjuice in preparation to impersonate his father. Three, the man worked for Dumbledore. That in itself was enough to decide where he was heading.

As if remembering the man was still there and conscious, Harry snapped his head back around to look at the poser on the ground. Pointing his wand at the man, "Who are you, and where are we," he demanded. The man started getting red in the face, "What are you talking about Potter? As if you don't know. You obviously broke into my quarters here at Hogwarts, you insolent brat," he spat out.

Blinking, Harry made no response and cast a location charm. He discovered that the man was telling the truth about still being in Hogwarts and if he were to take a guess, he would say he was still in the dungeons. The temperature was definitely too cold to be any higher in the castle. "I know for a fact that you cannot be 'Professor Snape' and this is not his quarters. I don't know who you are, but you better hope, for your sake, that my father is okay." Stunning and levitating the look-alike, he began the trek to the headmaster's office.

**A/N**: In case anyone got confused, the Harry this chapter was talking about was Mirror World (MW) Harry. The first chapter's Harry was the one we started with, so let's call him Origin World (OW) Harry.


	3. Fitting into This New Life

Disclaimer: Yes. I still **don't** own Harry Potter, much to my displeasure. Nonetheless, you should still read my story.

**Chapter Three – Fitting into This New Life**

**(OW Harry in MW)**

Harry just sat in front of his entrance to the Mirror World, hand on the glass as if he could will himself back into his original world. The mirror wasn't really a mirror anymore, it was more like a window. He could see everything still happening, he just couldn't come through. Remembering that the other side could see him too, he formed his face into an expressionless mask, he wiped his eyes and straightened up. He would not lose more than he already had to Voldemort.

"Poor Harry Potter. You have no way to help your friends and family now, do you? Oh, wait." The Dark Lord cocked his head to the side as though remembering something. "I killed all of your family already. Oops." A slow snake-like smile curved on his pale, thin lips.

Harry immediately thought of the Weasleys. They were planning on getting more wards around their house this summer. As he was still thinking about how much more protection they would need, and realizing that Voldemort was probably referring to his parents, the scene had shifted. Suddenly, he was looking at Ron's room. Harry could hear Ron snoring, see the rise and fall of the blankets he was under, see clothing strewn across the foot of his bed, everything. He could tell the mirror he was looking through, was the one on the wall near the door.

Trying to figure out _how_ he had managed to change his the scene he was seeing in the mirror, he tried tapping the glass with his finger tip. With a snort to himself, he wondered what Aunt Petunia would do if her vanity mirror suddenly had her nephew peering out of it. A second later, much to his surprise, he was looking at Aunt Petunia. She jumped up and backwards, away from her vanity's mirror, she started shrieking.

Harry couldn't help himself and started to laugh at his aunt's shock. It was as though he had broken a dam and couldn't stop. He just kept laughing. Laughing at the fact he was stuck inside a blinking _mirror_, laughing that he had found trouble even going clothes shopping, and just laughing in general because if he didn't laugh, he knew he'd cry.

He knew Aunt Petunia was demanding something from the other side of the mirror, and that someone in the shop he was currently in, was bound to hear him, he couldn't bring himself to care. Eventually, when he managed to stop himself from laughing, he glanced around himself. No one was there, so he guessed the employees of the shop were on lunch break or something.

Harry knew that since he was still on Diagon Alley, no one would be able to tell if he did under age magic. The Trace was faulty in that it couldn't tell exactly who cast the spell, only where the spell was cast. Harry conjured up mirror right next to the came through. The mirrors were identical, so he left his conjured one, shrunk the mirror he came through, and took it with him as he left the shop.

No one even spared him a glance as he stepped out of the shop. That in itself would have been odd if he hadn't remembered he cast a notice-me-not charm on himself. Taking in the scenery, he noticed that there were slight differences between his Diagon Alley and this one. The alley was shabbier than what he was used to, and there were people at the corners. Homeless people, he would assume. He wondered what could have happened. Back in his home world, things weren't quite this bad. Here, it looked as though Voldemort might not have ever been defeated.

A few shops he didn't recognize, had boarded up windows and obvious dingy blank places where the sign had been. The day itself was quite pleasant, with the sun shining and only small patches of fluffy clouds sparsely scattered across the sky, but the atmosphere of the people around him were heavy with despair and depression. Like there was no hope to be found, only temporary pleasures that wouldn't last long.

Shaking himself, as though trying to shrug off the hopeless feelings of the people around him, Harry began heading to the Leaky Cauldron. Checking his pockets as he went, he realized that he literally had nothing but his wand with him. Typically he had a money pouch and invisibility cloak with him, but since he was being fitted for clothing, it was all in the clothing he had left behind in the world he came from. The only reason he had his wand was because he always kept it in his arm holster.

Pausing when he reached the back entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, he slipped off his shoe to grab his "just in case money" as he called it and put it in his pocket. He usually kept three or four galleons in his right shoe in case something happened. He never thought that he'd actually ever need it. Funny how now he actually needed it. It was just enough to pay the Knight Bus fare.

After tapping the bricks at the back of the Leaky Cauldron, he made his way fluidly through the pub. Stepping out, he raised his wand in the air and quickly stepped backwards. He ended the notice-me-not charm and managed to speak before Stan Shunpike could get a word in. "I'm pretty sure I only have just enough for the fare, so I don't want hot chocolate, a toothbrush, or whatever other overpriced item you might attempt to sell me. Do you think you can get me to Hogwarts?"

Stan scowled for a moment, then eyed Harry suspiciously. "Three galleons and eight sickles. Fancy dressed guy like you only got that much? What, you been gamblin'?"

Shrugging non-committally, Harry fished the four galleons out and handed them over. Stan ushered him on to the bus and handed Harry his nine sickles change. Choosing a bed near the middle of the bus and laying down, Harry used a sticking charm to the feet of the bed to keep it in place. Even if the Knight bus _was_ magical, he knew it was going to be a **long** ride.

* * *

**A/N**: Woo hoo! Quick update! Chapter Four might take me a while though...Not sure what I want going on for the Harrys. Please Review!

-George


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